


First Time

by Cheshagirl



Category: Red Dead Redemption
Genre: Drinking, F/M, Smut, Vaginal Sex, essentially its my rdr oc having her first time with dutch, i might post more writings about her later, its a bit long and i think it takes a bit to get to the nsfw but yeah, theres some plot, vanderbee
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-05
Updated: 2018-12-05
Packaged: 2019-09-12 09:22:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16870336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cheshagirl/pseuds/Cheshagirl
Summary: After a heist goes south Dutch and Ginnie are forced to split from their gangs and hide from the law for a few days. Their solitude eventually leads to growing feelings.





	First Time

**Author's Note:**

> im a self infulgent bastard

Dutch “ _I have a plan_ ” van der Linde had done it again. It was an easy enough score, and they should’ve been able to get in and out with no trouble. But their plan had one fatal flaw, _Dutch van der Linde planned it_. The Raiders and the Van der Linde gang had worked together a couple times before with minor robberies that they managed to get through with no problem, so Ginnie and Dutch had decided, why not try a bigger heist? After Arthur came back from the valley with information on some bonds that’d be passing through by train, the two leaders had sat down to discuss what to do. Ginnie knew she should’ve taken the reigns as soon as Dutch started mentioning the other possible loot on the train, but decided to keep quiet and see how it went, after all, his bad luck couldn’t be that bad.

It was. Stopping the train was easy enough, getting on and dispatching guards was simple too, but then Dutch wanted more and before they could get away, reinforcements had arrived. Forced to split, Ginnie and Dutch had galloped further in the valley and finally stopped in the forest by Strawberry. The officers were long gone and nowhere in sight, but she knew they’d be searching for them for some time. Pulling Donner’s reigns, Ginnie comes to a stop in the middle of a clearing and takes a moment to breathe. Her eyes close, heart slowing to a steady beat while anger rose. She grips the reigns tightly and grinds her jaw as Dutch approaches, the Count whinnying. 

“We’ll have to set up camp here, they’ll be after us for a bit.” Dutch states. Ginnie exhales, trying to stay calm as he continues to speak nonchalantly, “We managed to get away with a good amount, could’ve gotten more if-”

“We had _enough_ , Dutch.” Ginnie snaps, jerking Donner to face the older man. “If you weren’t so _goddamn_ hellbent on _one more score_ we would’ve been fine! We had all the time to get away without gettin’ followed but you just needed more money.”

“Do not blame me for this.” Dutch retorts, voice lowering. “We had no idea that reinforcements would show up, let alone that quickly.”

“ _Yes_ , we did!” Ginnie shouts, leaping from Donner’s saddle. “Reinforcements always show up when we rob trains, you should know that by now! And we spent far too long looting that train when we should’ve been gettin’ away!”

Dutch grimaces at her, opening his mouth to counter when Ginnie strides toward him and leans up into his face.

“I know what I’m doin’ Dutch, I’ve been doin’ it long enough to see when somethin’ bad’s comin’ and I saw this plan goin’ south as soon as I let you start plannin’ it.” She snarls. “Lettin’ you lead the heist was a mistake, I knew it and I should’ve said somethin’ but I decided to trust you and look where we are.”

There’s a beat of silence, tension palpable between them. Dutch’s lip curls into a snarl as Ginnie waits for him to respond. Ginnie knows she’s right, Dutch knows she’s right, but he refuses to admit to his mistakes. He turns away from her glare, instead focusing on unpacking his bedroll from the Count’s saddle bags. With his back turned to her, Ginnie clenches her first and nearly screams at him, but tells herself to settle down. Fighting at this moment wasn’t going to do them any good, they needed to focus on laying low and setting up camp. She exhales her frustration, turning back to her horse and pulling her bedroll and small tent out. Ginnie begins setting it up, all the while keeping her back to Dutch, just as he did to her. They continue to work around each other in silence until night begins to fall and Ginnie realizes they had no food other than some jerky. She stands from the fire Dutch had started earlier and announces her plans to go hunt some rabbit. She spends almost an hour hunting, most of it spent cooling off after catching three rabbits, before returning to the makeshift camp. She finds Dutch reclined against a stump, hat tipped down over his face and soft snores leaving him. As silently as she can, Ginnie skins the rabbits and prepares them. As they cook, Dutch shifts in his spot, pushing his hat up and shakes the sleep from himself. They meet each other’s gaze but silence continues to spread between them. Finally, Ginnie sighs, “Caught a couple rabbits that can hold us out for at least tomorrow but then we’re gonna have to hunt some more, or head into Strawberry.”

“There'll be wanted posters up all around town, and no doubt officers keepin’ an eye out for us,” Dutch responds, grunting as he gets to his feet, approaching Ginnie to sit by her. “Best to keep hunting for a few more days.”

Ginnie hums in agreement, handing one of the cooked rabbits to Dutch. They eat in muteness for a while longer, the tension between them was still there and creating an awkward atmosphere that she hated. She groans, setting down her leftovers and rubbing her face. 

“I’m sorry, Dutch, for what I said. It was uncalled for.” Ginnie apologizes. She knows she’s right, but apologizing to Dutch was the only way they’d get rid of the awkward strain between them. 

“No,” Ginnie glances at Dutch in surprise. “You were right. You were right and I should’ve listened to you. So I should apologize to you.”

They sit in quiet, nothing but the crackling fire and woodland animals sounding out around them. 

“You think the others are alright?” She asks.

Dutch chuckles, “Only ones I’d be worried about are Sean and Micah. Not too worried about the rest.”

Ginnie throws her head back at this, barking out with laughter before saying, “I could not give a shit if that idiot Micah got caught and rotted away.”

Dutch laughs, shaking his head at her confession, not that it was anything new. 

“Well, I suppose you wouldn’t be the only one.” He jokes. He twists the ring on his pinky, staring off into the fire. Ginnie had learned that was something he did often when contemplating his next course of actions. Dutch would stare off, a lost look crossing over him with the occasional tick in his jaw. Feeling tired herself Ginnie stands, deciding that leaving Dutch to his thoughts would be for the best. 

“I’m going to sleep, we’ll talk more about what to do tomorrow.” She murmurs. She receives a grunt in response. She disappears into her tent, missing the way Dutch follows her form and the way his eyes linger on the rustling tent.

For the next few days, Ginnie and Dutch stayed low, avoiding Strawberry and major trails while hunting for small game to feed themselves. Time not spent hunting or scouting out the area around the town was spent by in the campsite, chatting about anything and everything. She had never talked to Dutch as much as this, and when she did it was kept to business. Ginnie found herself enjoying their conversations, laughing and sharing more about herself with him. She also found herself growing warm when he smiled, genuinely smiled, at her. Butterflies would erupt in her gut when his voice dropped lower and she couldn’t help but hide smiles when he leaned in to tell a joke. She realized these feelings were most likely an infatuation, one she wished would go away, but they didn’t and so she tried to hide them. For the most part, she did, until they finally chose to head into town. There was only a couple wanted posters that they ripped down. After dealing with that, they restocked supplies and split up, agreeing to meet at the saloon. Ginnie found herself buying a new shirt and taking a long bath to clean herself of the woods they had been spending time in.  
The saloon was loud, filled with workers just coming from their jobs, and the smell of alcohol assaulted Ginnie’s nose. She searches the saloon and finds dutch by the bar, hunched over and looking cleaner than when they arrived in town. He had freshened up as well, she can smell it as she approaches. The smell of his cologne and fresh soap waft from him, a pleasant distraction from the alcohol permeating the building. 

“Hello, stranger.” Dutch greets when she pulls out the stool beside him. Ginnie smiles, waving the bartender down and ordering a shot of whiskey.

“Feels nice to be washed up, was starting to feel like a hermit,” Ginnie says, nodding to the bartender when her shot is placed in front of her. 

“I agree,” Dutch replies. “Nice to get a drink as well.”

She hums in agreement. For another few hours, it continues like this, ordering shots, nursing their whiskeys, and chatting about whatever came to mind. Ginnie begins to feel the weight of the whiskey settle over her mind, her words slurring and giggles leaving her after nearly every remark. Dutch doesn’t fare much better, though his words aren’t slurred, his face is flushed and as they walk the road toward their camp he stumbles a few times. After nearly tripping over a rock, he hooks an arm around her waist and they lean into each other for support. Laughter echoes from them into the night, and by the time they’ve stumbled into their set up Dutch has unbuttoned his vest and is leaning in close to her ear. His voice drops, warm breath tickling her ears as he pulls her closer, hands gripping her hips. His fingers press into her shirt, spanning across her lower back. Ginnie sighs when his lips touch her neck and he murmurs, “ _Let me take care of you_.”

She meets his lips and within minutes they're laid in her tent, bedroll and blankets spread out. Somewhere between unbuttoning Dutch’s shirt and pushing it from his shoulders, she manages to stop his hands from pulling open her own. He stares down, questioning her with a look and she blushes, biting her lip as she chooses her next words as carefully as she could.

“I ain’t… This is new to me,” She explains. “And I got scars, big ones.”

The beat of silence is enough to send Ginnie’s heart rattling and her gut twists. She looks away from the man over her, clenching her fists. His hand cups her cheek and turns her toward him. His gaze holds steady as he murmurs, with such conviction that Ginnie’s breath catches, “There’s nothin’ in this world that could make you less beautiful.”

She closes her eyes as his fingers deftly unbutton her shirt, slipping it from her form and revealing her to Dutch. She hears him inhale sharply before a feather-light touch travels the length of the deep scar over her left breast. 

“Look at me.” Dutch orders softly. Ginnie peers down at him and swallows when he leans down to kiss her scar. His right hand slips down to undo her jeans as the other palms her right breast, calloused fingers rolling her nipple and massaging her slowly. Ginnie cries out when his fingers slide under her underwear and tease her clit. As his fingers press into her, his lips travel upward, leaving marks on her chest until he reaches her neck. Dutch bites down, leaving a mark that he soothes with his tongue. The hand on her breast and pushes her pants down far enough that she can shake them off. With no restrictions, Dutch leans back, gripping her thighs and spreading them. As his eyes roam her body, and his fingers rub the scar on her inner left thigh, Ginnie reaches for him. She grips his forearm, gently tugging him as she coaxes, “Please, Dutch.”

He gazes down at her silently, yearning to take her hard and fast. He leans in, finally, and kisses her before pushing off his pants. Ginnie looks away from him, trembling with excitement and nervousness when his hips slot against hers and she feels his cock press into her. She tenses, thighs clenching Dutch’s waist. 

“It’s alright,” Dutch soothes, shifting to hold her hip in one hand and brush the hair from her face with the other. “You gotta relax, darlin’, I’ll go slow.”

Ginnie nods taking a deep breath before exhaling, letting her muscles unwind. Dutch praises her, kissing her jawline and slowly pushing in. He stills when he’s fully seated in her, trembling as he tries to remain composed. Her warmth surrounds him and he aches to move, to make her scream and cry his name. Ginnie clutches his shoulders and turns to face him, breathless and flushed. 

“Move,” She murmurs. “Please, Dutch.”

That’s all the encouragement he needs before he begins rocking into her, setting a steady pace. She keens, nails digging into his shoulders and he moves against her. Her mind, foggy with alcohol and ecstasy, barely registers the soft praises and grunts Dutch murmurs to her. The coil in her abdomen tightens, her moans growing louder when Dutch adjusts his position and begins hitting the spot within her that sends waves of pleasure rippling through her. Through her daze she notices Dutch hand leave her hip and slip between them, traveling down to where their bodies joined. His fingers rub against her clit, causing her to cry out, “Dutch!”

“There you go,” He groans, losing his rhythm as they approach their ends. “I got you, sweetheart.”

Ginnie wails, voice cracking as her back arches. Her vision blurs with stars, her climax crashing over her as Dutch continues to grind into her. His hips still against hers and he moans, arms trembling as he releases into her. The next few moments are filled with nothing but panting, and the stifling heat coming from both of them. A whine escapes Ginnie as Dutch pulls out, leaving a soothing kiss on her cheek before rolling over to lay beside her. Her legs tremble, and sweat rolls down her skin, leaving her sticky but so spent and fulfilled that sleep comes easily. 

When morning comes Ginnie finds herself curled next to Dutch’s side, with his arm laying limp across her torso. He looks peaceful, and she would’ve continued to admire him if her head wasn’t pounding from her hangover. With a grunt she sits up, moving his arm slowly and tries not to awaken her partner. Her head spins as she pulls on her shirt and jeans, swearing under her breath when she can’t seem to button her shirt correctly. She slips out of the tent, flinching at the sunlight that assaults her. 

“Fuck.” Ginnie hisses, quickly stumbling toward a bush as the contents from her stomach rush up. She hadn’t gotten drunk like that since… well, a long time. She leans against the nearest tree, squeezing her eyes shut in an attempt to soothe the incessant pounding in her head. She remains like this for a couple of minutes, waiting for her stomach to settle, and trying to think through the grogginess she felt. A grunt from the tent and the sound of rustling clothes paired with cussing alerts her to Dutch’s rising. She watches in amusement as Dutch stumbles out of the tent, struggling to button his vest. He’s too preoccupied with his shirt to notice her stare, which she’s grateful for. His hair is messy, curls no longer slicked back and instead, falling around his ears and a loose strand hangs over his forehead. 

“Do you need help?” She asks, wincing at how loud she sounded. Dutch jumps at her voice, though he quickly puts on a smirk to try and mask his surprise. 

“If you would be so kind,” He responds, letting his hands fall away from himself as Ginnie approaches him. “It’s a wonder you managed to get dressed at all, with how drunk we both were last night.”  


Ginnie chuckles but looks toward her fingers instead of Dutch. She takes her time buttoning his vest, focusing on the soft fabric and trying to ignore the feeling of Dutch’s gaze. He stares down at her, watching her hands move. There’s a purple mark on her neck, just below her scar from last night, and her hair’s a mess, pulled loosely into a ponytail with strands falling out, framing her face. His heart flutters the longer he watches her, and then a realization hits him. 

“So,” He starts, lifting Ginnie’s attention from his vest to his face. “I suppose what happened last night will… change things.”

He poses it as a question, waiting for Ginnie’s reaction with bated breath. He’s nervous that she’ll say yes, that it was a mistake and they should probably part ways, and it scares him. The thought of no longer working with Ginnie, no longer sitting by the fire and having her laugh at his stories causes his gut to twist into a knot. Dutch had had feelings for Ginnie for a while but had tried to ignore them and never acted on them in hopes of continuing to stay around her. These were new feelings, feelings he hadn’t even had for Annabelle before, and the longer he dwelled on them the more he felt out of place and unsure of himself, something he despised.

“I suppose it could change things,” Ginnie says. “You’ll have to talk to Molly, but this ain’t somethin’ I want to go sharin’ with everyone, understand? And if this is just a one time thing then tell me now so I don’t go expectin’ things of you.”

Dutch blinks in surprise, gawking when she finally steps back and walks toward her horse to look through her bags. 

“I think we should try and make our way back, though. We’ve been gone long enough.” She says. She continues to talk about how they’d get back to their gangs, trying to plot the best route with the littlest chance of running into bounty hunters or law. Relief washes over Dutch, tension leaving him as he realizes his former anxieties about how Ginnie would react were silly. He should’ve known better, she wasn’t one to just up and leave or change her feelings over one night. He approaches her, pawing at her waist and pulling her back into his chest. She stops talking to look at him questioningly. 

“You sure are somethin’, Miss Bee.” Dutch murmurs, leaning down and capturing her lips against his own.


End file.
